


Tight fit

by notmykink



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Biting, Established Relationship, Kinktober 2017, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex, Wall Sex, technically mirror sex but they dont really make use of this so idk if it counts, what a waste i know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2019-01-08 19:30:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12260676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notmykink/pseuds/notmykink
Summary: Iwaizumi and Oikawa are out shopping, Iwaizumi tries on a sweater that is definitely too tight for someone of his physique, and Oikawa is absolutely shameless.





	Tight fit

**Author's Note:**

> kinktober day 3, prompts were: public, biting and sthenolagnia (strength/muscles)  
> i tried to combine all three but it's mostly public-ish. i dont know if i tagged correctly, actually, but yeah it's. in a fitting room.  
> also i tried something new so it wouldn't turn out that long and i dont really think it worked out but uh. well. i tried

Turning around from looking into the mirror to Tooru, Hajime frowns, raising his arms slowly to see if the sweater allows any movement at all. It’s _way_ too tight.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure there’s a limit to how much a sweater is supposed to cling to your shoulders and chest,” he says, crossing his arms — bad move, he feels one of the linings give in and instantly stretches them again, grimacing.

“It looks great, Iwa-chan, you just can’t let anyone but me see you in it,” Tooru says, looking deep in thought, sounding very appreciative, eyes fixed on Hajime’s chest and upper arms rather than his face. Hajime can’t help but snort.

“So, I’d basically only be allowed to wear it at home?” he asks, and Tooru nods, eyes finally finding Hajime’s as he smiles widely.

“Yeah, exactly,” he says, as if that’s actually an idea Hajime would go along with, reaching out to pat the soft fabric smoothed over Hajime’s chest, his hand resting there.

“Yeah, no,” Hajime says, rolling his eyes. “Help me get out of it without ripping the lining or some shit,” he adds, raising his arms over his head slowly, taking a step closer so Tooru can pull it up over his head for him. Tooru does as said, leaning in and grabbing the hem on each side of his hips, pulling it up a bit slower than Hajime would like—until the sweater is right above Hajime’s face, forcing him to keep his arms upwards, locking his arms on each side of his head, his elbows pulled towards each other.

“Wait—” Hajime begins, just as Tooru’s hands disappear from the shirt, sliding down his biceps slowly, moving to his chest, resting on Hajime’s pecs. If Hajime wasn’t used to Tooru so shamelessly touching him, he’d feel a lot more annoyed about being so obviously fondled, while in a fucking _fitting room_ , and it isn’t until he feels Tooru’s lips, warm against his skin, that he freezes.

Tooru presses him up against the mirror, cold against his back, grinding in against Iwaizumi’s hips and moaning against his skin before he begins to nibble at it, first just with his lips, then using teeth as well, teasingly grazing them over Hajime’s nipples before he moves upwards to give his shoulder and arms some attention as well, his fingers digging into the bicep on the arm his mouth is neglecting as if to show that he’s definitely not ignoring it.

“So strong,” Tooru muses, before biting into his bicep, not enough to hurt, but enough that Hajime’s skin tingles where his teeth touch, sending waves of heat through his body down to his abdomen. Tooru continues fondling his muscles, nibbling gently at the exposed skin, leaving trails of burning skin wherever he touched.

Hajime pulls at the sweater until it crawls up around his wrists before he reaches his arms in over Tooru’s head, caging him between his own arms. He turns them both over in a single, swift move, pressing Tooru up against the mirror instead and his knee in between Tooru’s thighs, rutting up against Tooru’s pelvis this time. The small, shaky moan he elicits from Tooru is like music in his ears, but Hajime pulls back slightly anyway, locking eyes with him.

“You really wanna do this here?” he asks, just as out of breath as Tooru is. Tooru simply smirks in reply, leaning into the space Hajime just retreated from, nibbling at Hajime’s lower lip. He bites down a bit harder, until it actually hurts a bit, and Hajime has to turn away, frowning at Tooru in annoyance.

“I have lube and condoms in the bag,” Tooru says casually, and there’s a glint in his eyes when he grins at Hajime.

“You— _what?”_ Hajime asks in disbelief, turning his face to the side to look down at Tooru’s backpack, resting innocently up against the small stool in the corner of the fitting room. “Did you plan this?” he asks, and Tooru blinks innocently at him, shaking his head just once before leaning in again to kiss him.

“No, I just needed to stock up,” he admits, smiling against Hajime’s lips. “You’ve been over a lot these last two weeks,” he adds.

Hajime blushes, well aware that they’ve been quite… active lately, and he feels his cheeks redden further when he realises that Tooru’s hands are still raking down his back, feeling up every Hajime’s back muscles and every vertebrae on his spine until he reaches Hajime’s lower back, sliding his fingertips over Hajime’s tailbone before he digs his fingers into the skin on each side of Hajime’s ass, letting Hajime grind up against him again, spreading his leg further when Hajime presses his knee up between his legs again, letting out a shaky breath. 

Hajime _finally_ pulls his hands out of the sweater, throwing it to the side before he pushes Tooru up against the mirror again, a hand on his chest to keep Tooru from moving closer again before he turns away, reaching down for the lube in his backpack.

The fitting room is luckily not that small, one of the perks of shopping in department stores, but they’re still _two_ people inside a booth meant for one person, and they’re still also two full-grown young men, both bigger than average.

After trying to find a position that works in the limited space and doing the usual preparation as hastily as possible — done less elegantly with Tooru’s jeans and boxers still hanging around one of his legs, Hajime’s trousers and boxers simply pushed down so they could roll a condom on him — Tooru _finally_ clampers both of his legs around Hajime’s waist, reaching both arms up around Hajime’s neck to hold up some of his own weight. 

Hajime cups Tooru’s ass while pressing the tip against his entrance, entering him slowly while keeping him pressed up against the mirror covering the entire wall, conveniently holding up some of Tooru’s weight so Hajime can use more of his attention on pushing inside him slowly, with the least discomfort possible.

Getting into a rhythm doesn’t take long after that; Tooru had argued from very early into their relationship that Hajime _not_ lifting him up during sex would be a complete waste of his physique, since it made it so much easier. He had been partially right about that. Strength wasn’t an issue, to Hajime’s relief but trying to _balance_ the weight of yourself _and_ your very tall and also very fit boyfriend while fucking him proved to be a bit harder at first than Hajime had initially expected and quite a lot harder than just lifting him or throwing him around during practice like Hajime was used to. But experience had made it easier, and their main problem in this situation turns out not to be related to Tooru demanding to be fucked up against the wall, but for both of them to keep quiet as they got more into it and to navigate their movements in the small space of the fitting room.

Just as both of them are getting worked up, falling into a pace that has Tooru hitching for his breath but not making any obvious noises, and a thin layer of sweat covering their bodies, there’s a small knock on the door outside their booth.

“Do you need some help?” it comes from outside the booth, a light voice that Hajime doesn’t recognise. A shop assistant, he realises, his entire body stiffening in fear.

 _Fuck, fuck, fuck,_ he thinks, biting his lip as he raises his head to look at Tooru, who, despite the flush in his cheeks, is smirking down at him, hands around Hajime’s shoulders to keep his balance while still being held up by Hajime.

“Do we, Iwa-chan?” Tooru asks, voice too chirpy, way too composed as he smirks down at Hajime, challenging. Hajime grits his teeth, growling quietly in warning as he gives Tooru a sharp look. After a moment of staring at each other, Tooru purses his lips, giving in and looking towards the fitting room door again. “No, we don’t, thank you,” he replies to the shop assistant, and it’s not until a few seconds after her retreating footsteps disappears that Hajime tilts his head in over Tooru’s shoulder, pressing his forehead against the cold surface of the mirror, exhaling loudly in relief.

The relief doesn’t last long, though, when Tooru hikes his ankles together behind Hajime’s thighs, pressing himself closer to Iwaizumi’s hips, making Hajime sink deeper into him.

“She’s gone, continue,” he breathes out, his composure crumpling slightly now that he doesn’t have to put on a show for the shop assistant, and Hajime lets out a small growl from the back of his throat, but does as said, thrusting into Tooru with renewed vigour, reaching one hand under his ass again, the other one still around Tooru’s neck.

Despite his best efforts — or so Hajime hopes, but he wouldn’t be shocked if Tooru _was_ a closet exibitionist, especially not after the show he just pulled with the shop assistant — Tooru begins moaning a bit louder than publicly acceptable, and Hajime moves his hand from behind Tooru’s neck up front, covering his mouth, his elbow still pressed against the mirror on the side of his head. Tooru whimpers against Hajime’s hand, breath hot against his skin, and Hajime keeps up the pace with his thrusts, pressing his face into the crook of Tooru’s neck and shoulder. 

He’s well aware that if he wasn’t so busy feeling Tooru, tight and warm around him, _whimpering_ against his hand, he’d be much more bothered by how Tooru is digging his fingers into his skin, raking them over his upper arms and back painfully hard, probably leaving marks despite how short he likes to keep his nails. Tooru arches his back, letting out an open-mouthed gasp against Hajime’s hand, and he reaches up around Hajime’s upper arm, pulling at it until Hajime takes his hand away from his mouth.

“Please—I’m close,” Tooru whispers, and Hajime nods, well aware of what he’s asking for, leaning a bit away so there’s room between their bodies before he reaches down between them to touch Tooru, stroking him slowly.

Tooru is already much closer to coming than Hajime had anticipated, gritting his teeth together and letting a low whine escape anyway, tightening around Hajime when Hajime tightens his grip. Leaning in to kiss Tooru, mostly to shut him up, Hajime thrusts into him again, pressing Tooru up against the mirror once more, fucking and pumping him at the same time until they both come, Hajime while biting down into Tooru’s shoulder to keep from groaning out loud, Tooru hissing into the back of his own hand.

They manage to contain the mess somewhat, with the condom saving Hajime, and Tooru mostly coming into Hajime’s hand. Conveniently enough, Tooru also has some extra kleenex in his backpack to wipe Hajime’s hand off, and once again Hajime wonders if Tooru really was speaking the truth about not having planned it, finding him a bit _too_ well equipped for this situation for it to be a coincidence.

Unlike at home, where Tooru likes to fall asleep instantly after getting over his orgasm, preferably with cuddles involved, he manages to get himself under control pretty quickly, pulling up his boxers and jeans while Hajime is still only assessing the damage done to his back, well aware of how raw and sensitive his skin feels now that there are no other, more urgent sensations to focus on.

Turning around and looking over his shoulder, Hajime grimaces at the red lines covering his back where Tooru had raked his nails down, almost following the dips of his shoulder blades. He catches Tooru’s eyes in the mirror, frowning when Tooru chuckles at the view, about to give him a piece of his mind when Tooru offers him his T-shirt. Tooru continues fixing his hair in the mirror while Hajime puts the T-shirt on, both of their faces flushed with a post-coital glow.

“I think we should get you the sweater anyway,” Tooru says suddenly after they’ve deemed themselves and each other ready to go out in public again, and Hajime stops, right as he’s about to push the door to the tiny fitting room open, ready to leave. It feels oddly awkward being pressed up in such a tight space knowing that they just had sex in there, and even though they’ve already checked twice to see if they were leaving any signs behind, Hajime is still scared that it’ll be obvious to anyone seeing them exit the small booth.

“Are you—did it rip?” he asks, turning to look at the sweater, still with a big ass price tag hanging from its neck, _definitely_ not worth the price when he can barely fit it.

“D-don’t worry, Iwa-chan, I’ll pay,” Tooru says, laughing nervously, while pushing Hajime out of the fitting room before walking past him with hasty steps, already headed for the counter.

“Oh my god,” Hajime says in disbelief, following a few steps after him, part embarrassed and proud about being the reason behind the added lightness to Tooru’s step or the blinding smile he turns to give Hajime as he pulls out his credit card to buy that damn sweater. 

Yeah, Hajime is pretty sure Tooru has a streak of exhibitionism in him. And he’s _definitely_ sure Tooru planned this out.


End file.
